Friday, February 5, 2010

I'm in Atlanta with my son, daughter-in-law, granddaughter and grandson for a few days. The weather is lousy (rain, rain, cold, rain) but the company couldn't be better.

Yesterday Madison had her first ballet/tap dance class, which will go down in my book of favorite grandchildren memories forever. At first, head tilted down, she cautiously evaluated the three other little ballerinas and teacher sway and twirl with long, purple scarves held aloft. Eventually, she inched her way over to the teacher, gave her a big hug, and lay her head against the teacher's waist. Her teacher returned the love, glancing up to the little window through which I peeked to wink and smile. The ice was broken.

After that, Madison happily joined in the dancing. They spun and leapt in their pink ballet slippers, then traded them in for shiny black patent tap, clicking practice steps from one side of the floor to the other.

It took me back, way back, to 1957 when I, too, was a little ballerina/tap dancer, performing in my first dance recital to "Hey, Jealous Lover" and "Green Door."

Although she hasn't another class till next week when I'll be back in Florida, Kate will snap a shot of her then and I'll post it.

About Me

I was born a reader. My first real "grown-up" book came from a school book fair when I was in the fourth grade -- Little Women. I still have it, 58 years later. As I became acquainted with the March girls, I came to identify with one more than the others. It certainly wasn't shy, timid Beth or proper Meg. Amy's love of art resonated with me, but at last, because she loved literature and writing and because of her independent nature -- although often awkward and outspoken -- it was decidedly Jo.